


Lilith and Madame Zelda

by ephemeralblossom



Category: Original Work
Genre: Extra Treat, F/F, Fluff, Fortune Telling, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-22 12:45:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12481872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralblossom/pseuds/ephemeralblossom
Summary: Even fortune tellers have to study for exams.





	Lilith and Madame Zelda

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dawnstonedagger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnstonedagger/gifts).



The room was dim, with only the flames of the fire in the hearth to light the chill evening. Shadows flickered across the fortune teller’s face, the gold of her earrings shimmering warm and the strong line of her eyebrows throwing the look of deep concentration on her face into greater contrast.

“I see,” she said, her voice deep and resonant, “I see your future. There is a man! He is tall, and handsome, and his hair is the tawny gold of the owl that stoops downward towards the earth. He will sweep from the sea, driving the land before him, and lay a treasure of riches at your feet.”

“So is he a pirate or a Viking? Or a Viking pirate?”

“Hush,” the fortune-teller said, dampeningly. “You interfere with the magic of the crystal ball! Evil will come to those – ”

“He’s supposed to be tall, _dark_ , and handsome. Who wants a _brunette_ Prince Charming?”

The fortune-teller sighed. She opened her eyes and switched on the lamp next to her.

“I’m just saying,” the girl sitting opposite said. “Stick to the classics and you won’t get marked down as much.”

In the light, the fortune teller was revealed as a young woman of ordinary mien. Underneath her makeup, she had a stubby nose, freckles, and a pair of rueful eyes. “Really, Lydia,” she protested. “How am I supposed to practice if you won’t take things seriously?”

Lydia, who had her dinner in the newspaper on her lap, pointed a chip at her. “It’s Lilith. And you’d be fine if you resisted the urge to embroider.”

The fortune teller looked cross. “It _sounds_ better if I change up the clichés.”

“We’re in the magic business, not the storytelling business, Zelda,” Lydia said. “If you want to be a writer, drop out and go be the next J.K. Rowling. Otherwise, give the punters what they want.”

“You mean give Madame Pemphredo what she wants,” the fortune teller said, glumly. “And don’t call me Zelda.”

“Fine, _Gwendolyn_ ,” Lydia said, rolling her eyes. “Eat your dinner. I broomed all the way to town for that. You’ll feel better once you have some chips in you.”

Gwendolyn threw a cloth over the crystal ball and came to sit on the sofa next to Lydia, picking up her own greasy newspaper. “It’s easy for you,” she said, unwrapping her food. “Madame Pemphredo _likes_ you.”

“She likes me because I play to genre. I haven’t forgotten my hat once this term, and I keep my broom tidy. Plus I told you the fake warts would be a hit.”

“I should’ve gone to Shoreditch,” Gwendolyn said, though her disconsolate manner was undermined by the fact that her mouth was full. “Adele says their Fortunetelling Department is doing some really creative things.”

“But if you’d gone to Shoreditch you might never have met me,” Lydia said, poking her in the shoulder. “Or I might have cursed your hair green.”

“That would’ve been a pity,” Gwendolyn agreed. “Have you figured out how to uncharm the kitchens yet?”

Lydia made a face, staring at the last of her fish. “Nope. It’s curdled oatmeal for breakfast, lunch, and tea until we solve it. Damn Shoreditch. Hitting us in the meals, that hurts. The local takeaways are booming.”

“Well, you did turn all their brooms into matchsticks,” Gwendolyn pointed out. 

Lydia’s broom shuddered in the corner, as if it heard the fate of its sisters and quailed.

Lydia sighed, a gusty sound. “C’mon, Madame Zelda, my dearest love. Predict me more mysterious futures. You’re going to pass your exams, if I have to hide under the table and hiss _tall, dark, and handsome_ at you until my voice goes hoarse.”

Gwendolyn kicked her ankle. “I’m going to predict you death by curdled oatmeal.”

“Spare me, oh wise one! Anything but that!” 

Gwendolyn took her dinner back to her chair with her. “No comments from the peanut gallery this time. I didn’t heckle you when you were brewing your love potion last term, even when you put in too much eye of newt.”

“Fine,” Lydia said, waving a chip at her. 

Gwendolyn took a calming breath, centering herself, and then flipped off the lamp. The firelight flickered in the dimness, and the rings on her fingers glinted. She considered throwing some potpourri on the fire for a proper ambiance, but Lydia would vociferously object, so she refrained. 

“I see your future,” she intoned, majestically. “You will go on a dangerous journey, full of peril and the thrill of the unknown. If you are steadfast, you will find riches and treasure beyond all knowing, and a beautiful stranger will fall desperately in love with you.”

“Desperately in love sounds stalkery,” Lydia said, “and for the rest, what I’m hearing is that you want me to broom to Nando’s tomorrow, even though I’d have to go past Shoreditch territory. Nando’s might be neutral ground, but if they catch me on the way they’ll steal my hat. Or worse.”

“You’re _impossible_ ,” Gwendolyn said, but she couldn’t help laughing.

“If you can keep your composure with me, you’ll have a better chance of not breaking when Madame Pemphredo gives you the gimlet stare tomorrow.”

“You have a point,” Gwendolyn admitted, reluctantly. “But leave Nando’s out of it. I defy anyone to maintain character when you start talking about Nando’s.”

“I make no promises,” Lydia said, grinning.

Gwendolyn threw a velvet pillow at her.

And together Lilith, Apprentice Witch, and Madame Zelda, Apprentice Fortune Teller, studied long into the night, lit by firelight and the peals of their own laughter.


End file.
